High School of Commerce - Tradesman Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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Tl-IE. TRADESMAN he inquired after this was finished because I did not leave the chair. Yes, yes, I guess so, stammered I. Shave?', asked the tonsorial artist smil- ing, thinking he was cracking a joke. Yes, answered I brightly, for it was a relief to have him guess. The wielder of the razor was thunder- struck to think that I should start to shave so young. I-Ie tried to dis- suade me, saying, once I started to shave, my school boy complexion would leave me, but I was determined to have what I wanted. VVith a sigh of resignation the barber filled his shaving mug with hot water and worked up a lather which he gently applied to my face. If you don't want to go through with it, son, all right,', said the barber. I told him to hurry and have it over with. I-Ie took one of those straight- edge razors and began to strop it. After about two minutes of this work he reached over and plucked a hair from my head and cut lit to see if the razor was sharp. Evidently it was not, for he still continued stropping and this time reached over and pulled a handful of hairs out of my scalp. He gave it the same test and it must have met with his approval, for he began his carvings on me. First, he drew the blade down my cheeks. Next came the massacreg he started to shave on my chin and upper lip. Witli every stroke of the blade it seemed as if he pulled the hairs from the very roots. I stood it for a while, but at last had to let out a ,series of yells. Now, I did not know two spinsters lived in the same house as this barber shop who were enemies of the proprietor. They heard my screeches and telephoned the police that a young man was getting killed in the barber shop. The guardians of the peace came and questioned the barber and me about the affair. We told them it was absurb but the barber had to do some explaining as wellas I. The sergeant asked why I got the shave and if my folks knew it. I did not know he was kidding me and an- swered all his questions earnestly and truthfully. No sooner had I an- swered all his questions than he started to laugh and told me it would be less trouble for the police if I took my shaves at home from now on. VIEWS ON THE WAY TO COMMERCE By Harold F. Forrester A I leave my house at 8.00 o'clock and saunter towards Huntington Ave- nue. I pass by Symphony Hall where heartrending solos may be heard for two dollars, and by Horticultural Hall which is opposite, where exhi- bitions of plant and animal life are held and attended by nature's noblemen. Turning down Huntington Avenue, the first building I see is the Tent ballroom where jazz is supreme and where drug-store cow-boys strut their stuff during spare hours. On the other side of the street is Back Bay Post office where correspondence school students get their diplomas. Then comes a long row of stores which deal in everything a student doesn't need. My eyes tiring from the glaring advertisements, I wander towards the Boston Conservatory of Music, which has a steady stream of fiappers pouring in and out, no doubt learning to sing Grand Operas and striving' to emulate Mary Garden. The next building is the Y. M. C. A., taking up quite an amount of 15

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BUT THE MY FIRST SHAVE By Doran Did a gang ever shame you into getting a shave? VVell! they did this little thing to me. VVhile in the second year of high school I got my first shave and wished it had been my last. I was sick and tired of hearing everybody kidding', me in class about the hair on my upper lip. Every morning it was an ordeal for me to go to school, for no sooner would I step in the home room than some smart aleck would say, Good morning, John, how's the mustache coming.along? or VVhy don't you put some milk on your face and let the cat lap it off? At last I became desperate. There were only two things left for me to do: First, to leave school Qwhich I couldn't very well do because of my parentsj 3 second, to get a shave and surprise the world. After much deliberation and thinking I decided upon the second course of action. It was on a Friday I made up my mind to do this because my weekly trimming was due the next day. Friday night I went to bed at nine o'clock, which made my parents worry over me for fear I was not feeling well. Let me tell you, there was no sleep for me that night, for no matter how hard I tried to rest, I always kept thinking of the barber's on the morrow when I was to get my face scraped, After what seemed an eternity, Saturday came with rain. I got up at seven o'clock and went in the dining room where the rest of the family were eating breakfast. My father looked at me queerly and asked if I felt all right, which I told him I did. There were no more a surprised family on the whole continent of East Boston that morning than mine. I had the whole household guessing what was the matter with me, for I went to bed so early and got up at seven, without being called. Saturdays, I usually sleep till around ten and here I was up at seven. Something was rotten in Denmark, my sister informed my father. My mother wanted to know if I was in love, my father asked if the unexpected had happened, if I had got a job for Saturday. I informed them that they were all wrong. The barber shop was opened and when I went there it was doing a rushing business-by the door! No one had to wait, for it was run on the modern system: One barber, no custoinersfl After many unsuccess- ful attempts, l finally managed to stumble in the beauty parlor. The chair was vacant, so I did not have time to ponder and get cold feet. Did you ever sit in a dentist's chair? Well! that was how this chair seemed to me. I told the barber to trim my golden locks. Anything else, son F l4

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THE TRADESMAN space. This organization is known as the Big Boys club. Beside this is a shanty with a glaring sign, The Cure-Ant Health Center which is quite a contrast to the Opera House across the way which has housed more Hamlets than the characters on your laundry check. Next comes Tough's College where students learn to become butchers and plumbers. All previous buildings are eclipsed by the splendor of the Boston Art Mu- seum, which has in its collections articles of rare beauty and value from all the world, including an almost extinct specimen from South,Boston. As I pass by Greenleaf Street, a large brown building looms in front of me known as the Went-b1'oke Institute. This building houses some of our future Edisons and it has a dominating aspect over the surrounding apart- ment houses. .4 I finally come to the Girls' Normal School and feel safe in saying that all peaches are not canned. Turning to my right down Longwood Avenue I see the more dignified buildings of the Harvard Medical and Dental schools, which overshadow our own Louis Pasteur Avenue. I arrive at school at 8.55 and the beauty and grandeur of these buildings are lost to my memory as I pore over the day's home lessons. QI-iinisj THE NOJSCHOOL SIGNAL By john Ryan. Izzy looked' out the windowg all the madness of the universe was raging. The wind shrieked along the ground like an unleashed terror, driving the snow along before it in such an unrestrained fury that it might well be called a blizzard. I hope that there will be no school today, said Izzy as he sat down to eat his breakfast. He finished his breakfast and started to read a book, but he was not destined to finish it. He happened to look up at the clock just at the time the hands were pointing at 7.45. He thought of the no- school signal and listened for it and was surprised to find that there was no sound. He was puzzledg so he waited for five minutes to see if there was some mistake, but still no sound greeted his waiting ears. Now Izzy had a perfect record in school for attendance and he had no desire to molest it. Almost instantaneously he had made up his mind to go to school. He donned his coat and hat and made his way out to the street. Out in the street he paused to see how bad the storm really was. The snow was about two feet deep, and not only that, but the wind was blowing as hard as ever. He thought that he could take a street car to school, but there was none in sightg for the simple reason that they were not running. Undaunted, Izzy started again on his way, precarious though it was. He tried to walk rapidly, but the gale crazily fought him. wrapped the burlap coat about his legs, beat against his bodyg the snow seemed to fill his shoes, making every step a conscious dragging effort. He realized, in exasperation, that his progress was appallingly slow. He had been out in thetstorm only fifteen minutes, but he thought that he had been fighting the gale for an eternity. ' He was now half the way to school, after having fallen down about three times. Picking himself up for the third time, he looked stealthily around and slinking into a nearby doorway, lit a quenchie, a fatigued Fatima. l6 seal? Wi